


And Death Is Calling While Life Urges You On

by Dewsparkle



Series: Little Stories of the Avenging Kind [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki, Brother Feels, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Everyone Needs A Hug, Except Odin, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Good Loki, He can die in a hole, How was Loki ever okay, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalized racism, Intersex Loki, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki Really Is A Good Guy, Loki being Loki, Loki can though, Loki death, Loki is tired of this shit, Loki loves his kids, Loki really needs that hug, Loki's Children in case you were wondering, Loki-centric, M/M, Mentions of Fenrir, Mentions of Váli & Narfi, Mostly Oblivious Thor, Mpreg, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Occasional Fem!Loki, Odin's Bad Parenting, Odins A+ Parenting, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Patricide, Post Avengers, Post Thor Dark World, Racism, References to Child Death & Endangerment, References to Torture, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Loki, Thor cannot Earth, Thor probably needs a hug as well, Thor wasn't the best brother, Tony Stark Has A Heart, When is he ever, and probably will, innocent!loki, just brothers, just sad things in general, not thorki, sadness and feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewsparkle/pseuds/Dewsparkle
Summary: Loki was dead, but then he wasn't. He has nowhere to go and he doesn't know how long he'd been gathering sand on the wasteland of Svartalfheim Thor hadn't even had the thought to recover his corpse from.Loki loved his brother, but he just wanted it to end. Thor would probably finish him off, if he returned, for 'tricking' him again. Or the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. It didn't really matter anymore. Frigga was dead, there would be no one to mourn his loss.At least that's what he'd hoped would happen.





	1. Prologue

Loki was dead, but then he wasn't.  
 

He'd dreamt of an end ever since he fell from the Bifrost.  
 

Begged for it when left in the void for so long he'd lost count of the years and his mind had fled.  
 

When they pulled him from the void he was blank, torture did not do much but provide a distraction. A new hope that _maybe this time will be it.  
  _

He failed to die on Midgard under the Others control, and was spared on Asgard.  
 

Thor had lost hope finally and lead him to his death to save his mortal lover.  
 

Loki loved his brother, but he just wanted it to end.  
 

Loki liked Jane, she was intelligent and knew how to put Thor in his place.  
 

If he hadn't been so broken, they might've been good friends.  
 

Saved Thors life again, nothing new there. Saved Jane's, that was good. She wouldn't live long anyway- give Thor more time.  
 

He didn't know the blade wouldn't kill the beast.  
 

Barely felt the blade pierce his front. He did note the way his back had felt odd with a dull ache near his spine, but seemingly not quite there.  
 

Slight of hand was something he knew well. The grenade like crystal was easy to activate. They'd both get sucked into its vortex, then.  
 

Didn't expect the rough sting of dirt and too warm blood as he hit the ground a moment later.  
 

His vision going dim, refusing to focus on Thors face. How did he get there so quickly?  
 

He was numb. Distantly he knew this should bother him.  
 

He was cold, too. That was a strange sensation.  
 

He found himself wondering why Thor looked so scared- no terrified.  
 

He wondered why his face was wet.  
 

Thor was speaking. His usually booming voice was distant, as if speaking through a tunnel and not filled with its normal joyfulness.  
 

Thor moved him, pain shot through his body and suddenly it was all he could feel.  
 

Ah. So that was why.  
 

He was dying. In Thors arms, no less.  
 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He panted, hands reaching unbidden towards the gaping hole in his torso.  
 

He didn't want Thor to have to deal with this, but he was selfish and glad that he didn't have to die alone.  
 

". _..didn't listen_..." He thought he heard. Listen to what? He wondered. He listened to a lot of things.  
 

"... _father... what you've done_..." Done what? He hasn't done anything for his not-father.  
 

His lungs were burning and he felt blood on his lips. He could barely see the face inches from his own.  
 

"I didn't do it for him..." He found himself gasping out. He wanted to say more, apologise for everything again and again until he couldn't think. Until his silver tongue refused to make another sound.  
 

He wanted to tell Thor what he really meant to him.  
 

But he couldn't hear Thor anymore, but his lips were moving.  
 

He couldn't feel the wind the was whipping Thors blonde hair around his face.  
 

He felt his breathing come to a shuddering halt, lungs refusing to draw air.  
 

He wonders briefly how his mother died, if this is how she felt.  
 

He saw Thors face, in the blackness, just for a moment longer.  
 

He realised he was afraid.  
 

His eyes were getting heavy and he was tired, so very tired.  
 

Loki's eyes slowly slid shut, sharp green iris' dulling and muscles relaxing until his lean and too thin frame was dead weight in his brothers arms.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't really sure when he noticed something felt off. 

At first, he assumed that this was what death was. There was no Valhalla or eternal damnation when you leave the land of the living, just a void darker and more silent than the one he'd fallen into from the Bifrost. That he could accept. He'd honestly expected as much, and was strangely glad for it.

Then all comfort was lost when he realised that if there was no Valhalla, then his dear sweet mother was cursed with this dreaded blackness until the end of days.

The silence grew unnerving. The phantom sensations grating at his frayed nerves.

Sometimes, he thought he heard Thor's voice. At first it was echoes of noise, barely heard over the faint ringing the silence created. Sometimes it was his mother.

He didn't mind hearing these shades. It was nice, to hear the ones he loved in his afterlife. If this was how he was to spend eternity then he was fine with that. He could live with it- or well, you know.

Of course this did not last. Fragments of broken memories created faint pictures of imagined colour. At first they vaguely reminded him of events from when he was a small child, still in the nursery with Thor.

He remembered the nights where his own bed across the room became too big, too cold and lonely. Pushing down on him as he lay awake staring wide-eyed with unexplainable fear at the ceiling, trying in vain not to notice the way the shadows flickered in the dim torchlight down the hall from the nurse-maids barely open door.

He would stumble out of his bed, shivering with fright and cold, even during the warmest days. He would deftly make his way over to his brothers bed, feet making not a single sound to alert anyone to his movements.

He would carefully climb onto Thor's slightly larger bed and crawl over to shake his larger shoulders, gently urging him awake.

_"Thor." He whispered, shaking the blondes shoulder. "Thor. Psst, Thor. Wake up!"_

Eventually Thor would awaken, blinking owlishly at his raven haired brother, frowning in confusion.

 _"Loki?" He mumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "_ _What's_ _wrong?"_

 _"Nothings wrong._ _I'm_ _cold." He replied, the shake in his voice and wide eyes betraying the lie._

But even so, Thor would nod in understanding, pretend to be fooled and open his arms, beckoning his little brother into them.

And if Loki ever moved into them too quickly, or clung a little tighter than he ought, Thor never said a word. Instead simply tucking the both of them back under the blanket and murmuring a tale to distract Loki from his fears until he fell back asleep, usually with one of Thor's arms claimed as his own.

Little moments from his childhood, before they began to grow apart. Before Thor met Sif and the Warriors-Three-to-be. Before Thor stopped praising and being amazed by his studies into magic.

Then he remembered times he wished he could forget. When he'd been blamed for cutting Sif's hair and denying he'd done it- because he hadn't. He'd been alone in the library at the time.

He remembered with vicious clarity as Thor was forced to hold him down as the dwarf began to sew his lips together. Thor had been grim faced and tearful. He'd tried to appease Odin, but he was silenced as Loki was to be.

He remembered and felt every jab of the needle, the rough drag of poorly woven string. The bruising grip on his jaw where the dwarf worked and Thors pleading to _be still,_ _it'll_ _be over soon_ in his ear as he thrashed and cried out with the agony of it all. The betrayal and the hurt that no one would listen to him.

He could practically taste the blood as it had run down his face and in his mouth.

It had taken a week before he was able to remove the stitches, as the dwarves had insisted they stay in for the duration of their visit.

His mouth had been sore for days and scarred for life, if only faintly to the point you had to know what you were looking for to be able to find it. He cared not for his pride, but the humiliation at his only defense and weapon being taken from him had been terrifying. All the more so since he hadn't been out of the nursery for very long at the time.

He did not speak to Thor or his friends for the remainder of the season and the duration of the next. Only drifting back in out of sheer loneliness.

He knew Sif had cut her own hair, as did Thor and the others. When her parents had not approved she had accused him of the crime and been believed.

He wondered if this was what the Midgardians would call 'your life flashing before your eyes'.

Many more memories surfaced unbidden. Some good. _(His beautiful children)_  Most bad.  _(Where were they now? What had become of them?)_

It was around then he noticed that something on his back felt solid, and that gave him pause. He was dead, how could he feel the ground beneath him?

It was a while yet, or at least he thought it was, before a dull ache began to spread through his chest. He thought he heard the wind, felt sand flying against his face.

He came back to himself dreadfully slowly. His hand felt soiled with dried blood and dirt and his wounds stung something dreadful.

He blinked his eyes open barely to a slit, exhaustion only just allowing the small action. Around him was the wasteland of Svartalfheim. It looked much the same as it had when he'd died-

Oh. He'd died.

If he had the energy to do so, he would have cursed so colourfully the Rainbow Bridge would have wept at its own inadequacy.

Why did the Fates hate him so? He wished for death, wished for it for so long it became hard to remember a time when he didn't.

He had _died._ He had been _dead._ Why was he alive yet again? It had been peaceful. For once allowing his mind to rest without being plagued by memories of pain and torture and killing, if only for a short time at that.

His eyes slid shut and he cried until what little energy he had was sapped and he fell back into blissful darkness once again.

The next time he found himself aware, he acutely felt the pain from where he'd been impaled. He blinked his eyes open all the way and took a deep breath that ending in a painful coughing fit which rattled painfully at his injury. 

He forced himself into a sitting position, hugging his middle and hissing through his teeth. Pulling his hand back, he found it came away bloody. Not enough to be fatal, again, but enough to know the wound wasn't really healed. He felt for his magic and it responded tiredly. It seemed his extensive reserves had been drained to nearly nothing, which was strange because his magic replenished itself very fast.

He wondered on that for longer than he normally should have, his brain churning the information slowly through his mind. Was that how he survived? Did his magic save him? But why? And more importantly, how? He'd never asked it to, so it shouldn't have been able to.

His head began to throb so he stopped thinking about it for now, filing it away for later. The more important question right now was what he was going to do. Thor thought him dead, probably Odin too. Heimdall wouldn't have any reason to look for a corpse. Frigga would- oh, right.

He sat up further, forcing his protesting body to uncurl so he could properly look around. Just over the way a corpse of a Dark Elf was rotting with decay. He couldn't see it clearly, but he saw enough to guess he'd been here for more than a few days as he had first thought.

Did Thor not come to recover his corpse? He wondered suddenly, a new sting of betrayal burying itself in his heart. Had he not given his life to save him and his mortal? The least he could have done was send someone to burn his body on a log  with the dead Dark Elves. But apparently Thor didn't even think him worthy enough to be disposed of as a cowardly enemy would be.

No, he wasn't even worth _that_ in Thor's eyes.

Sometimes Loki really hated that he loved his brother. 

His life would be much simpler if he didn't.

The lack of worth was nothing new, but it stung all the same. He supposed it was only what he deserved, for all the mortals lives he had taken against his will. For the lives of the Jotunn when he had turned the power of the Bifrost against Jötunheimr. He hoped there had not been many, knowing the Bifrost's landing site was abandoned, but it was too much for one such as him to hope for. 

Heaving a sigh, he stumbled to his feet, doubled over with his arms over the hole in his chest, forcing himself to ignore the warm blood leaking past his arms and dripping on Svartalfheim's soil.

He stumbled painfully slowly through the wasteland, knees giving out more times than he wanted to admit to. It was slow going, but eventually he found his way back to the gap between the realms. 

He sat himself down on the wall of the small cave with a sigh of relief. His magic was stronger now, but it was still draining in the effort to keep him alive and heal his wound. Thankfully it had stop bleeding as long as he was careful how he moved, as to not to aggravate it into reopening what little of it his magic had managed to close if only temporarily.

Where should he go? If he went to Asgard he'd either be killed or relocated back to his cell. He didn't mind the former, Asgard's warriors could probably do a better job at keeping him dead than he could, if his past attempts were anything to go by.

But the latter... he didn't think he could bear it. He hated being left alone with nothing but his thoughts for company, and the forced isolation did nothing to alleviate his already damaged mental health.

But, what if he went back and could he gain a chance to explain his side to Thor, without Odin's interference? He'd been kept muzzled throughout his so called trial with the All-Father, guilty of his crimes without any chance to defend or explain himself.

As it always had been with his Not-Father.

He didn't know how long it had been, so Midgard was probably a bad idea. Although it would more than likely guarantee his death, he didn't really want the mortals to think he was going to attack them again.

So no, Midgard wasn't happening. Neither were any of the other seven realms he could choose from. He would not be welcome and there wasn't really anywhere safe for him to hide.

Asgard it was then.

His green eyes gazed mournfully over the pathway to the other realms as he pulled himself to his feet with the jagged cave wall, uncaring of how it damaged his too pale (even for him) skin. With a grimace he stepped through the pathway and willed himself to Asgard. 

He was doomed.


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark when he stepped out of the pathway, hissing in pain as his wound reopened and fresh blood spilled between his fingers. He huffed as his vision swam and his shoulder hit the wall hard enough to bruise.

"I'll just... take a moment..." Loki muttered to himself as he slid down the stone, black spots dancing in his vision and his head swam, light headed from blood loss and exhaustion. 

He jolted awake an indiscernible amount of time later, but when he pulled himself to the mouth of the cave the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. It was dark when he'd arrived so it had been at least a day from when he'd passed out.

He pulled at his magic and built it up until he had enough to transport himself towards the palace, only just having enough forethought to make himself invisible beforehand.

He slumped against a tree in a painfully familiar garden, breathing heavily. Figures he would take himself to his late mothers pride and joy. He blinked silent tears from his eyes when he remembered he would never she her tending to it again at odd hours of the day. 

He remembered when he was small and she would place his small frame on her knee, somehow managing to keep her gown pristine and un-rumpled despite the location. She would conjure small orbs of light that danced between her fingers as she moved them to a melody only she knew. He remembered the first time he had purposefully used his magic.

  _"Now you do the same." She told him softly, giving him a comforting squeeze with her arm, which had been around his middle to steady him on her knee. "Concentrate on the feeling of your magic, can you do that for me?"_

He had nodded, eyes closed and brows drawn in concentration as he felt inside himself, gripping clumsily at the green-gold strands of his magic.

_"Now put your hand out in front of you- yes that's it. Now I want you to shape the magic into a little ball of light. Can you see- no don't open your eyes yet. Can you see it in your mind?"_

He had frowned as tried to shape the light into just that and push it towards his outstretched hand, pausing a few times to pull it back together as its shape wavered and began to unravel.

_"Loki." She crooned, pride lining her voice, her breath coming out in a gasp of amazement._

He had opened his eyes, looking to his mother in confusion, thinking he had done something wrong before he caught sight of his hand. He'd given himself such a fright that the small orb of green with thin ribbons of gold light had flickered out of existence for a moment before he forced the magic back and it reappeared just above his palm. He had grinned until his face hurt, making it move around his hand slowly with clumsy gestures of his small fingers. 

Frigga had smiled and conjured a slightly larger ball of light blue-silver light that danced lazy circles around his own light. He remembered asking why they were different colours, and his mother had explained that no two peoples magic manifested itself the same way and that the colour reflected the personality of the wielder. 

They had spent hours in her gardens throughout his childhood, doing small things with his inexperienced magic. Small and uncomplicated illusions, lights, and making things move without touching them. It was one of his happiest memories, when it was just Frigga and Loki alone in her gardens while she taught him about magic and healing, and how to use words to his advantage. 

He sighed shakily, wiping his dirty face with an even dirtier sleeve in an attempt to rid himself of the tears, probably only really succeeding in smearing blood on his cheek. He forced himself to stand again, double checking his spell was still holding.

It was slow going and by the time he'd made it near enough to his destination the moon was already a fair ways up in the sky. The stairs had bothered him and reopened his wounds again, and he was feeling light headed again, which did not help matters.

When he reached a familiar door he nearly sobbed with relief, dropping his spell in the empty hallway and raising a trembling fist to the wooden door to knock weakly against it. He barely registered smearing his fresh blood on the polished wood when one of his legs buckled and he had to catch himself. 

He was so tired, his vision was dimming again and he knew he was going to collapse any moment. He forced himself to knock on the door again, more forcefully this time.

He almost missed the grumbled "Enter." and fumbled for the door knob, hand slick with blood, pushing the door open and stumbling inside.

He heard a gasp somewhere ahead of him. Deliriously he realised this probably hadn't been the best idea he'd ever had, he certainly hadn't fully thought this out. As he heard the door swing shut behind him with a click, he wondered if it was too late to get away.

His knees gave out and slammed painfully into the ground, doing nothing for the throbbing behind his eyes. His hand felt warm again, reminding Loki he'd opened the wound _yet again_. It was never going to heal at this rate. He glanced down at his bloody hand, blinking owlishly at the redness of it, finding himself wondering why his hand wasn't its usual pale pink colour of Æsir flesh.

" _Loki?!_ " Someone- Thor, he corrected after a few moments consideration, half shouted in what sounded like disbelief. He heard movement and then someone- Thor, the hands were too big and callouses in the wrong places to be anyone else's- was holding his face between them.

He flinched back at the suddenness of it but the hands didn't let him go. He blinked hard to clear his vision and only managing to make out blue eyes and blonde hair in front of him. He shook his head slightly, his mind wasn't processing as it should and he couldn't remember why.

"Thor?" Was all he said, frowning at the face in front of him. He'd momentarily forgotten where he was. His head swam again, nausea churning at his gut. If anything else was said, he didn't hear it because his body slumped forwards and all he knew was darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki woke to a light touch and his heart hammering at his rib cage, breaths coming up short as he desperately tried to breathe. It was dark wherever he was. He was on something soft and he couldn't help the whimper that escaped past his lips. He'd been taunted before. Led to believe maybe he was safe, and then they would come and take their pleasures from him no matter what he did.

He scrambled to sit up, to get away- anything. Something grabbed his shoulder from the darkness and he yelped, yanking himself away from the large figure looming over him in the darkness. His legs got caught in the blankets he was lying in, giving Loki the unpleasant reminder of the times he'd been bound by chains and ropes while the Chitauri did an assortment of painful things to his person.

The large figure grabbed at him again just as Loki got a leg free, kicking his attacker in the chest and accidentally propelling himself off the bed onto the hard floor. His chest and back exploded in agony. He curled in on himself despite the further pain it cause, his sweaty face twisting into a pained grimace.

He was only just aware enough to realise someone was speaking, most likely to him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He shrunk in on himself further in response. He felt something kneel beside him on the floor and he tensed, unfurling himself just enough for him to act if he needed to.

The large figure was looming over him again, his mind warping the distantly familiar figure into Thanos. Loki let out a keening noise and pulled himself away, lashing out with a poorly aimed fist when the figure moved. It grabbed his wrist before it could hit its mark and snatched the other before he could try again.

Loki's breathing picked up as he began to panic all over again, thrashing and squirming trying to get away from the tight hold. He was pushed forcefully onto his back with the figure straddling his waist to pin his legs, holding his wrists against the floor above his head. 

Somewhere through the haze of panic, he heard an angry growl of, _" **Be Still!** "_

Loki froze instantly, breath coming out in heavy pants and entire body coiled with fear and muscles painfully tense, wide eyes staring fearfully ahead of him and not really seeing. He knew what was about to happen, there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. He never could. He would be punished for trying to resist. He felt silent tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he waited, eyes shut tight and head turned to the side in the vain hope that if he couldn't see it it would go away.

It seemed like an age before he realised nothing had happened. Loki cautiously opened his eyes, the room was a little brighter than it was before with moonlight filtering in through a window somewhere behind him.

The figure was still pinning his arms and straddling his waist, but now Loki realised he was being spoken to in soft tones. Loki turned his head so that he could properly look at the looming figure. He felt his chest stutter in relief when he saw a familiar face with blue eyes and blonde hair.

"Thor?" He croaked, voice no more than a whisper. Thor stopped his mutterings with a look of relief on his face. A hand released one of his wrists and came up to cup his cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.

Thor opened his mouth to say something but Loki choked out a sob before he could. "I'm sorry I'm sorry _ImsorryImsorry_..." He kept repeating over and over again until Thor gently shushed him.

"What are you sorry for, brother?"

Loki pauses in his mutterings for a moment, brows drawing in ever so slightly. What was he sorry for? What _wasn't_  he sorry for? There are so many things, some old, some recent. He settles on the most recent incidences and the words spill fast over his dry lips and it's a miracle they were even understood. "For not being strong enough. For not being able to resist Him. For you having to watch-. For not _staying dead_ -"

He feels Thor tense in shock and his words die on his lips. He can just make out the furrow of his brothers- Thor's brow as he looks at Loki like he's insane. (He probably is, to be honest. Why did he come back here again?)

"Loki." Thor starts slowly, an almost dangerous undertone in his voice. "What are you saying? You tricked me, did you not? You died in my arms and yet here you are. I mourned for you, brother. And who is this Him? Strong enough for what?"

Loki's head is aching again, its hard to think and his vision blurs slightly when he tries. "He is- they were- _years alone Idon'tknow-_  The _Other-_  he, he... found me. I- he..." He breaks off with  pained whimper. His temples are throbbing in earnest and he wonders why his ears are not bleeding from the force of its pounding. His breathing is erratic, though he doesn't really notice. The void is creeping back into his vision and _he can't- not again please not again._

Loki panics, bodily trying to throw Thor from him. He almost does, the blonde having been caught off guard by the sudden movement. 

"Loki, _Loki!_ Calm yourself!" Thor is shouting at him, gripping his chin with one hand while the other continues to pin his wrists above his head on the hard floor. 

Slowly, Loki stops thrashing. His body is still tense with panic and fear, and he can once again feel warm blood on his torso. He glances down and realizes his soiled armor has been stripped away, leaving him shirtless and with nothing but soft trousers covering his gaunt frame. 

Thor, having seen this, also looks down and curses. Slowly, the larger man releases Loki's wrists and moves off him so he is no longer straddling his younger brothers waist. Loki's breath hitches as the warmth Thor's body gave him leaves and he begins to shiver as though he was back on Jötunheim _and oh Norns don't think about that not now._

He hadn't realised Thor had moved further than that until he's quickly picked up and placed back onto the bed, which he belatedly realizes must be Thor's. The abrupt movement causes an involuntary cry of pain to escape and Loki's hands go to the chest wound without thought, trying to keep pressure on it.

Thor appears again at his side a moment later, placing something on a small table beside him. Thor's hands gently but firmly take his and attempts to pull them away, murmuring reassurance when Loki resists weakly.

His newly bloodied hands are lain at his side while Thor cleans the wound with warm water, gently pushing them back down when they try to flutter back to cover it and valiantly ignoring when Loki flinched and the pained sounds that manage to escape. It leaves Thor wondering how he survived so long with the wound in the first place.  

Eventually the blood is mopped away after refilling the bowl many times. The blonde grabs a small stone and crushes it to dust over the gaping hole. Loki sighs when the pain he hadn't realised was there eases away and the wound begins to heal itself. The process is repeated on his back and Loki feels a lot more at ease than he has in centuries, the healing stones Thor used must have been the variant the Eir often used on her patients so that they could sleep through the pain.

Thor carefully wraps his torso and lays his mostly limp body back down. The pain in his head has eased, but he is exhausted, not just from the magic in the healing stones.

"Thor?" He croaks softly. There's a sound of acknowledgement as he settles to sit beside him against the headboard. "Thank you..."

Loki drifts off without much aid from the healing stone and Thor is left staring at his long thought dead brother with a mixture of emotion that leaves his head swimming, but most of all, he's worried. Not that Loki is lying, no. Even Loki, with all his tricks and acts, would not lower himself to act this way in front of anyone who could use that weakness against him. 

Thor begins to wonder what really happened all those seasons ago, when his brother lost his wits and tried to destroy Jötunheim. Odin had said he'd overreacted to the news of being adopted, but even Thor, for all his obliviousness to the realms and his 'oaf-like ways' (as Loki would no doubt say), knew the Allfather was omitting many important details and context of what really happened that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, sorry that this took so long to get out. School's finishing up and basically my whole brain is due in every class. So I haven't had much time to write. Final exams are next week so I should be able to get writing again pretty soon. I can't really give an estimate of how long until the next chapter, but I hope this one was okay? It's a bit of a filler, not too happy with it but I hope it's mostly okay. It really is mostly just a set up for the next chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to all those who've left comments and kudos and all that fun stuff! The support is greatly appreciated and I'm glad someone is enjoying this story, even if updates are probably gonna be quite slow. 
> 
> Thanks all! Have a lovely day/night!


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